4th of July (three weeks late)

I just realized I never posted for July 4th.
Jason bought us a grill for our [awesome!!] backyard, so we grilled out burgers, made some fries, pasta salad, and too much food. We planned on watching the fireworks from the yard (our new neighbors let us know the view from here is spectacular when we first moved in), so we waited around in the yard for dark to set in. It had been sprinkling a little, so I tried searching online to see if they were going to cancel the show when I discovered that the town fireworks show wasn't even happening till Saturday. So we put on the crappiest clothes we could find and hightailed it to post to watch the fireworks there from the car.

We started out in the car. Then in the back of the car. Then we decided that we might be able to see better if we walked a little closer to the field, still dressed like homeless people.

It was a really great show and luckily it was dark so hopefully no one saw us.

It was really late when we got home so we didn't get to light the sparklers Jason got us till the next night.

That was also the night I caught some kind of virus.

So Saturday was spent mostly in bed, popping Pepto, and sipping gatorade.

Jason was stuck on daddy-duty and took the boys to the park for the Independence Day festival. They got their faces painted, went down the water slides, jumped in bouncy houses, and brought me some homegrown tomatoes from the farmer's market.

They ate pizza (I had crackers) and we lit the sparklers. Then we sat out on the treehouse platform and watched the fireworks from our back yard.

The view was spectacular!!

Science projects and checking off the bucket list

A week's worth of three sick kids has landed us in cabin fever territory. No playdates, no small group, and no church today.
Time to get creative!
I put my [time suck] pinteresting to work and we pulled out some borax, glue, and food coloring.

GAK!!

Flashback to third grade science! I had an awesome teacher, Ms. Staggs, who loved science projects. We did everything in that class--moldy sandwich experiments, manicure-pedicure day, restaurant day, paper mache' pinatas, and gak. I remember thinking it was the coolest thing. Mine was blue. It dried out or got thrown away for one reason or another and I wanted to make it again so bad. I think I tried dumping some glue and Gain out in the kitchen with no luck. I pined for the boxes of borax in the laundry aisle at Food Lion.
Making it with the kids totally took me back. I helped them stir and mix colors. Then when we were done, I bounced that rubbery, slimy goodness all over the table. And stretched it into snakes. And showed the boys how to squeeze it properly to get a real good fart noise out of it.
The slimy part was a little much for Poppy. She whined at it like she does when a dog barks too close to her face. Eventually she realized how awesome it was, too.

I picked up some chalkboard paint and a sample tub of Valspar (toasted pumpking--swoon!!) at Lowes this weekend and taped up a good spot in the playroom.

The chalkboard wall was a big hit!

Riley went straight to work filling it up as soon as the paint was dry.

Per our summer bucketlist, I found a good recipe for bubbles (several actually, all mixed together). Luckily it wasn't a bust! I tried making a giant bubble wand using a wire hanger, but it didn't go so well. I searched the house for something to use and voila! Canning jar lids!!

Who knew??

Poppy was more interested in giving herself a beard with the bubbles. [excuse my naked child in the background]

Terrible picture, but this was her beard. She also tried washing her hair.

It all went really well till she dumped the entire bucket of soapy water on herself/her brothers/everything. 

Did I mention the recipe called for corn syrup?

Backyard camping

Daddy finally had (most of) a weekend off so he bought [an unnecessarily large] tent, a couple flashlights, a lantern (that ended up nearly catching fire), and s'mores supplies to take the boys camping in the yard.
As soon as he was off work, he set up "camp" and lit the firepit.
The boys of course insisted that we do the hotdog roasting since it "takes too long" and they didn't want to get smoke in their eyes.

Still-sick Poppy was a hysterical mess. Torn between not wanting to be left out of the fun her brothers were having and feeling like $hit, she just wailed and whined and screamed the entire time.

Except when I gave her a little chocolate from the boys' s'mores.

Pitiful.

I took her inside to give her a bath (while she screamed). Got her dressed (while she screamed). Gave her some medicine (while she screamed some more). And finally rocked her to sleep (no screaming, just exhaustion).
Between all the screaming from the baby, whining from the boys (it's hot! Can we get a fan? I don't want to pee outside, there's bugs!), and swearing from Jason and I, it was quite the glamorous experience.

Eventually the baby was down and Jason's phone stopped ringing (work of course), so the four of us went out to the tent in the dark with our flashlights to tell ghost stories and read Jason's old Bill Wallace novels.

I totally rocked the ghost stories.

I think we only kept the neighbors up till 11. I brought all the sweaty boys wet towels to drape on their faces, Jason took a couple glasses of water out, and I convinced them to pee in the yard when I shined the flashlight down and told them to aim at the light on the ground. Riley refused to turn his flashlight off.

I slept inside to check on Poppy and wash all the bugspray off (in the bed and air conditioning--no shame). About an hour after they were down, I peeked out the window and there was no movement--just a single flashlight beam shooting straight out the side of the tent. 

At 3:30 I heard Riley crying in the hallway. He said, "Daddy made me [sob] come inside [waaaahhhh]". I took him to the potty, then led him back out to the tent. I woke Jason up and asked why he sent Riley in. 

"I told him to go out in the yard and pee so he wouldn't pee his sleeping bag."

Clearly, Riley takes after his Daddy and has no idea who he is, where he is, or what's going on when he's woken up.

Everyone went back to sleep.

Around 7, they shook Jason awake and told him, "DADDY DADDY it's LIGHT outside!! It's awake time!!"

And they all came in and had cinnamon rolls to celebrate staying out there the whole night.

Anticipating kindergarten

We're down to the wire. A little over a week left of summer break.
This morning I got up at 7:45. Not terribly early...unless you're me. I hate mornings and the beginning of the school year is always a challenge for me for that very reason. So I'm starting slow. 7:45 this morning. Maybe 7:30 tomorrow? Like late-sleeping detox. I'm cutting back.
Ever since the school system sent out their little newsletter, I've been thinking of little else than school. We're already armed with supplies, new backpacks, and a few new clothes. I have a list of lunch-packing ideas so we don't get stuck in a rut of PB&Js. We're looking through the list of extra-curriculars, trying to decide on just the right class/club/sport/activity. We're cutting back on tv watching. Planning out morning routines and car-rider routes and homework time.
Of course, he's not thinking about any of that...

He's more concerned about filling every paper in the entire house with superheroes.

He'll tell me he's nervous. Scared about making new friends. He'll tell me his little expectations of how school will be, which ranges from "Spiderman art school" to something exactly like his last preschool class was.

I am so nervous for him.

Curious for him.

Excited for him.

I ask him questions about what he's excited about, hopes for, wants to learn.

And I try to keep my nervousness under lock and key until after the kids are in bed. Then I look at Jason and go, "AAAAAHHHHHHHHH our baby's about to start school and I'm FREAKING OUT!!!"

Visit with Grandma

It has been a happy weekend around these parts. Grandma visited from Tennessee and we have been go go go since last Thursday.
She arrived Wednesday evening after a 3-week-long countdown from some eager little boys. Poppy must've smelled the cookies because there was no hesitation when she went right to her. On the couch, she got right up in Grandma's face and said, "Mamawww!" She's been calling her that ever since! Hilarious.

Thursday morning we loaded up the car with floaties and buckets, picnic lunches, towels, an umbrella, and a roller cart. Everyone slipped in their suits and sunscreened up and we were on our way!
We spent the day at Tybee Island, swimming, sunning, and building sandcastles. When babies were tired, sandy, and brown enough we headed home for ice cream.

Friday showers brought us to the mall for playtime at the soft area and a ride on the carousel. Then we stopped by Target for school supplies and brand new backpacks for my big school boys.

Saturday we went to Forsyth Park downtown to play at the splash park.

And run around on the playground.

The farmer's market was still going on, so we checked it out and picked up some frozen fruit pops and peaches. We lucked out on our timing. As soon as we got back home it started pouring.

Mamaw kept the babies Saturday night so Jason and I could go on a date to celebrate our anniversary. We went downtown and ate at Moon River Brewery. We walked a few blocks over to Lulu's Chocolate Bar for some amazing dessert--Jason had a B-25 coffee (kind of like a loaded Irish coffee) and I had a chocolate-covered-cherry martini (fabulous!) and we split a Milkyway cheesecake. After we walked around a little, enjoying Savannah at night and burning off a fraction of that cheesecake, we headed to the movie theater to see "Grown Ups 2". When we got home, everyone was out. All the pizza and "Lady & the Tramp" must have had them beat. 

Sunday we planned to go back to the beach to tour the lighthouse, but got rained out. We took the boys to get their hair cut instead.

Last night while the boys were supposed to be sleeping, I found James wide eyed in his bed staring at the ceiling fan. He said, "Tomorrow's going to be a saaaad day."

Today's the sad day.

James has been moping and frowning since he woke up, knowing that it was good-bye day. 

Poppy's called for "Mamaw" a few times.

Riley's just aggravating his siblings with the occasional, sad, "I miss grandma."

These days are always hard, reminding us how far we are from family.

So I just try to remind them of all the fun things we did and that it won't be long till we'll visit again.

And when all else fails, 

there are cookies.

Where did you get that crayon?

Crayons are the bane of my existence.
You would think with my long-time history of art appreciation that I would love them. That I would adore seeing precious masterpieces that my children create. That I would adore the creative nurturing they provide as a first medium for tiny fingers.
Don't get me wrong--I love that my children share my love for all things colorful and crafty. I love seeing the [millions] of Optimus Prime pictures James draws and the accidental letters and lines Riley scribbles out. I love that Poppy can sit quietly for an eternity with the broken waxy pieces she sneaks away from the boys, proud of little marks that come out on the paper.
But I freaking hate crayons right now.

First of all, they reproduce.

Literally.

One minute there's a manageable box of six crayons, wrapped in paper so as not to make huge unsightly marks on whatever they fall or get stepped onto.

Then all of a sudden the kids realize they can rip that obstructive, protective layer off and delight in their "nakey" crayons.

As if life couldn't get any better than naked crayons, they discover the power of breaking them.

Yes, you now have a million crayons! 

Epiphany!!!

I can only imagine they feel like Jesus and the loaves.

Now EVERYBODY can have crayons!! We don't have to fight over who gets blue or who gets orange or who gets stuck with the unwanted pink crayons!

Only they still fight. 

Over whose crayon piece is bigger.

I'm constantly stooping to pick up broken pieces, carefully trying not to smudge it into the damn carpet (inevitable) because my iron-clad law about "crayons stay in the kitchen, on the table, out of reach until supervised" pretty much got crapped on. Just when I think I've picked up all the pieces of what used to be six crayons, I trip over another. Or find them in the couch cushions. Or bedsheets. I should probably change the blog to "wheredidyougetthatexpletivecrayon.com"

I also have a rule about "crayons only go on designated sheets of paper or coloring books"...

This is my fireplace.

It is blue.

It wasn't always blue.

I rest my case.

If I try to hide the crayons, in a bag of course to keep them all in one spot, my squirrel children start hoarding them. James sneaks a few into his lunchbox/shoebox/purse/backpack/whatever he's keeping his toys in for the week. Riley probably buries them into the carpet. 

When you google "how to get friggen crayon out of everything", e-how articles come up with some really great tips. Like: Place a paper grocery sack over the stain and on a low-setting melt all the crayon onto the bag. Then use dry cleaning solution, blot, WD-40, blot, soak your carpet with water, blot, dish detergent, blot, water, blot. Dance in a circle. Blot blot blot blot blot.

Listen e-how, I don't have time to blot the crap out of my carpet. And I don't know who has dry cleaning solution just lying around their house.

So here are my tips for getting crayon out of your house:

Don't buy them.

Don't let anyone else bring them in your house.

Pour lighter fluid on said stain, and set it on fire.

Drink some wine. The stain will look blurrier and less noticeable.

Get rainbow colored carpet installed.

Start coloring it yourself. It'll look less fun to the kids.

And finally, just screw it. You won't be tripping over crayons forever. At least it's only crayon wax you're scrubbing and not bodily fluids. 

Unless, like me, you're also cleaning those up too.